Deluge
by Idamonae
Summary: [Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves]Restricted to England’s green countryside, Azeem laments the loss of his kin and homeland when an unexpected boon literally comes crawling from the woodwork.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Deluge

Genre: Romance/Drama/Angst

Rating: M

Summary: Restricted to England's green countryside, Azeem laments the loss of his kin and homeland when an unexpected boon literally comes crawling from the woodwork.

_Disclaimer: The immediately recognizable belongs to Pen Densham and Morgan Creek Productions; the base story of Robin Hood is public domain. I'm not making a penny from this, and it is here for entertainment purposes only. _

_xxxx_

It was raining again. Azeem cursed under his breath as he watched the heavens pour their tears down upon the lush green English earth, the whole time yearning for the feel of the hot sun on his back. He'd been away from home for too many years, and while he knew he spent far too much time lamenting that fact, he couldn't help himself. The local residents of Loxley Castle had once told him that he'd get used to the wet seasons and the bitter frost that blanketed the ground for more than half the year. However, it had been more than five summers since he'd slain the witch Mortianna, and the chill still seeped into his bones during the nights and made him irritable during the days. The good Friar Tuck had made many a crude comment about the lack of warmth in his bed being directly connected to his daytime irritability and harsh mannerisms: all of the problems he faced in life, it seems, would vanish into thin air if he'd take a woman to his chambers every so often. He scoffed at the idea, and for more than one reason. For one, he wouldn't be in this forsaken country if not for his weakness for the taste of a woman, and for another, he had more important tasks at hand these days.

Besides which, he had yet to meet one woman in England who stirred his passions as well as _any_ woman from back home. He had laid any hope of returning back East to rest with the realization that the life he'd earned for himself after fulfilling his vow would be swiftly thwarted should he step ten leagues within the realm of his kindred. He reached up and pinched dust from his sleeve, disdain written clear as day on his features for the crude wool cloth the tunic had been made with. There was nothing here like the finely spun cloths from the East…

Enough. While he certainly missed the culture and comforts of his home land, he also had a great deal to be thankful for here. A quiet knock at the door signaled the coming of one of those comforts. He smiled softly. "Come in milady."

The door opened slowly, revealing the petite figure of the Lady Loxley, Marian, her weary expression and tight posture indicative of the heavy mass of her pregnant belly. "My God, Azeem" she breathed, "You certainly do not make yourself easy to find, do you?" She shot him a look of reproach as she shuffled across the room to join him near the window, seating herself in an adjacent chair.

"My apologies, milady." He nodded respectfully. "I simply found need for a few moments of solitude." He stepped back to look at her, concern in his eyes. "I fear I'm not the best company at present." Eager to change the subject, he inquired after her health, calling attention to the dark circles under her eyes made all the more visible by her pale flesh. "Are you well?" Her first child had near taken her life, and this second pregnancy had not been easy on her tiny body either. She suffered more swelling than was usual, and hardly had a normal appetite. He'd warned Robin about inflicting child upon her again, but neither had listened to his warning. They were both stubborn as mules, and he had not been surprised to find the bag of herbs he'd prepared for her as a guard against conception making its way around the servant quarters a week after the Lord had announced his wife was with child.

"I'm well, thank you." Her wide eyes took in his form, her brow furrowing as she took in his own haggard features. "Let us not worry so much. I'm quite capable of maintaining my own welfare. What troubles _you,_ my friend? You must know that while I appreciate your staying here to oversee the birth of this child, you needn't confine yourself to the castle all the time. I know you are happiest in the forest, and I don't know why you refuse to return there when it is the only place that gives you true comfort." She took a breath, steadying herself in the chair, a light laugh escaping her lips. "Look at me, getting myself all flustered." Marian looked up and forced Azeem to meet her eye with a gentle hand to his cheek. "You are a dear friend to Robin and I, Azeem. It is your happiness which most concerns us. There are many healers in England of good reputation. Women have been having babies in this land without the help of your skill for centuries without issue. If you are unhappy here, I want you to go back to Sherwood. God knows I'll have an easier time over this whole thing if I have one less thing to worry about, and that includes you."

Azeem took her hand in his own, squeezing it gently in an attempt to convey his feelings. "I do not want to leave. My heart is heavy, but it is over things that I cannot control. Allah has sent me here, and here I shall stay. I want to see this child of yours brought into this world properly, and no English healer will meet with my expectations."

Marian laughed. "Azeem, you are far too critical. Contrary to your belief, there is some intellect within this country."

"Ah, yes milady. The trouble is, I have yet to see it." He smiled warmly, taking the sting from his words, and she laughed.

_xxxx_

Will Scarlet was more than just a visitor at Loxley castle seeking a free meal. Why, he was the second Lord of the manor, and he felt that he was justly deserved a decent seat at the table when supper was served. Which was why he was currently quite upset to learn that he had been seated near the arse-end of the table about as far away from his brother, currently seated at the head, as possible without verging into the realm of all out insult.

If it weren't for the man seated to his left, he might have been inclined to make a scene and demand a place as befit a man of his station, but Azeem was entertaining company, and so he'd held his tongue, though his brother would be getting the full extent of his wrath when this charade was over and done with, that was for sure. He had taken a small amount of comfort in seeing his brother's best friend seated further down the table than him. Just a small amount. He figured if he scowled at the head of the table long enough, someone might take notice and do something about his situation, but no one noticed, and this only served to annoy him further.

A muttered "stop scowling" followed by a low, patronizing growl from his left made him jump slightly in his seat. Will had the decency to look thoroughly chastised as he suddenly found the tapestries on the fall wall to be quite interesting. He felt his cheeks burning with shame. So someone had noticed after all, buy _why_ did it have to be Azeem? The man was good company, for sure, but he could also be damned scary when he was angry. "They're entertaining dignitaries," the older man gestured to the front of the table where the guests of the hour presided in their cushy seats next to his brother. "It is good diplomacy to give the guests of honour the best seats at the table. You know it is not a personal attack against you, so stop behaving like a petulant child and drink your wine."

William grinned at his companion. "You know, Azeem, you might be more receptive to socialization if you partake of the vintage yourself for once." The glare he received put an end to his teasing. Obviously, the man couldn't take a joke. He coughed as his last swig of wine went down in a decidedly uncomfortable manner. No one at the table noticed as his face turned an alarming shade of purple and he struggled to catch his breath. Ah. Well, he was used to being ignored anyway. It was typical. He hacked a few seconds more before feeling a hand soothing his shoulders and stopping his coughing fit. Wheezing, and grateful to have his breath back he asked the older man what he'd been up to of late. When he received no response, he merely shrugged it off. He was getting used to that kind of treatment. Perhaps his friend simply wasn't in the mood. Lately he'd been that way quite often. Maybe something was bothering him. Maybe not. He amused himself instead with watching the other members of the dinner party try not to spill their meals on their fancy dining wear.

"I'm not ignoring you, Christian." Will turned, startled out of his watching the guests trying to impress his brother and appearing to fail miserably. Azeem had a contemplative look on his face that made Will wary. The older man met his eyes, and Will saw them filled with something he couldn't begin to describe. Azeem looked tired: worn out. He then noticed his friends hands idly pushing the lavish dinner fare around his plate: he hadn't eaten one bite.

"Are you ok?" Will asked nervously, gesturing to the full plate questioningly.

The dark man swallowed uncomfortably. "I would rather not discuss it, if that is alright." Will nodded, but was careful to watch his friend for the rest of the evening. When Azeem choose not to partake of the evening festivities, no one noticed. Really, the man didn't drink anyway, and hadn't told a story in more than a year. Will sighed sadly as he watched the coloured man disappear upstairs, presumably to rest. He knew too well what it was like to be invisible. Everyone else had their own troubles to contend with, and such was life.

_xxxx_

To be Continued…


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Deluge

Genre: Romance/Drama/Angst

Rating: M

Summary: Restricted to England's green countryside, Azeem laments the loss of his kin and homeland when an unexpected boon literally comes crawling from the woodwork.

_Disclaimer: The immediately recognizable belongs to Pen Densham and Morgan Creek Productions; the base story of Robin Hood is public domain. I'm not making a penny from this, and it is here for entertainment purposes only. _

Note: It's a mess loaded with far too many colloquialisms…but if you still want to read it, I can't say I didn't warn you.

_xxxx_

Azeem twisted uncomfortably in the wool blankets, twitching as the homespun cloth chaffed his skin. It was unbearably cold tonight, and the fire didn't even cast a hint of warmth, despite his having tended to it every hour on the hour. It was raining _again_, and not even the soft sound of the raindrops on the roof could lull him to sleep. He mused that he should be grateful for the small things in life, but somehow couldn't bring himself to feel anything but bitter. He wasn't a young man by any means, and he felt he deserved a good night's sleep. But something else was gnawing at him. Some shadow of a thing lurking in the back of his mind. He had a terrible feeling that something awful was about to happen, and he couldn't shake it. He'd always trusted his instincts in the past, and the hair standing straight on the back of his neck were telling him to stay awake.

Someone was in danger.

His first thoughts of course were of Marian, so when he heard a harsh pounding at his chamber door, followed by the heavy oak being abruptly thrown open by a distraught looking Will Scarlet, his heart froze in his chest. She'd gone into labor prematurely. She was dying. "Marian?" he asked, his words choked. He was dreading the answer.

Will heaved as he leaned into the wall, his words coming out in sharp gaps. "No, Marian's fine. It's someone from the village. They ripped down the gate and are making a hell of a racket downstairs. Robin asked for you. They need your help."

Azeem rose, and hurriedly dressed, adjusting his robes and trying to make himself as decent as possible. However, the urgency of the situation was palpable in the air. "What is it?" he asked, his wide eyes desperate for more information.

Will shook his head. "I'm not sure. There's a woman. God damn. I don't know. It's bad though. She's been beaten I think. Or it was a wolf of something. Whatever it is, she looks dead." Will shook his head again, as though trying to get the image out of his mind. He found himself pushed from the doorway as Azeem stormed past, and tried in vain to keep up with the older man's long strides.

"Someone from the village needs a healer?" Azeem asked, looking back over his shoulder for a response, just to clarify. Will nodded hastily, still gasping for breath. They reached the entrance hall in record time, but when Azeem looked back again to see if Will was still there, he paused at seeing the young man frozen at the threshold of the large room. He gestured questioningly.

"I'd rather not see it again." He said simply, leaning against the wall for support.

Azeem turned on his heel and wadded though the crowd of people lingering in the doorway. He could hear shouting from down below, where he could vaguely make out several figures, two of which were hunched over the obvious patient, who lay still as stone on the cold floor in a heap of rags. Another was bellowing at the Lord Loxley, demanding that they be taken to the "coloured witch doctor." The Muslim man snorted at the description of himself, but pushed through the last wave on onlookers until he found himself face to face with his summoner. "Oh thank ye sir, thank the Lord!" The man shouted again. Azeem than recognized him as one of the townsfolk from the village below. This man sat on the council and often came up to Loxley Castle to assist the other council members in their advisement and requests of Lord Loxley himself. That would explain why he had prior knowledge of Azeem and his healing skills. Not that it wasn't well known, in fact, Loxley was quiet famous for their harboring of the Moor.

"Quiet yourself," Azeem advised the man. He knelt down to examine the heap on the floor, flinching as the smell of dried blood and death crept up into his nostrils. Beneath the heap of smelly rags he could make out pale features. Yes, it was a woman, if the size and shape of the hands and wrists were anything to go by, but the person was otherwise unrecognizable beneath the web of bruises and cuts that marred her body. Azeem stretched one pale finger to the place at the woman's throat where her life force may be recognized and heaved a sigh of relief when he felt the tell tale throbbing of her heartbeat, weak though it was. She was still alive.

"What has happened?" He asked, pulling the shroud of cloth away from the woman's body, eager to see the extent of the damage, but maintain the stranger's modesty at the same time.

"I'm not certain, sir. She lives in the woods, ye see? The young one's, they think she be a witch of some sort. She came a staggerin' up the way 'bout an hour ago. My wife is frantic. She made me bring her up here, and I'm oh so sorry for disturbin' ye peace my Lord," he gestured at Robin, who stood over the scene with a furrowed brow. "-but we hadn't any choice. She's the healer the women go to. Will she live, do ye think?" The councilman looked Azeem in the eye then, flinching at whatever it was he thought he saw in the dark man's eyes.

Robin intervened when Azeem failed to answer. "I'm sure our trusted friend will do everything in his power to assist the woman." He looked at Azeem for reassurance, but the other man had returned to ascertaining the woman's condition. "Friend," He pulled the distraught, nameless villager aside. "You say this woman is a witch? Does she have a name?"

"Yessir. I'm not sure what her given name is, but my wife calls her Ana. She'll respond to it, I know." The man looked helplessly at the woman's prone form. "We wouldn't mean her any harm. She's not ever done nothin' wrong, per say. The Lord Almighty may not like some of the things she does, but-" He paused, looking at the men assembled wearily. "She helped my children with a horrible rash, and spared my wife from illness that took her off her feet for nigh on a week. I dunna know who did this, but when I find out-" he let the threat sit unspoken, crackling silently in the tense air.

"Can you help her Azeem?" Robin asked softly, bending down to eyelevel with his friend.

"Yes, but I cannot do it here. I'll need help to get her upstairs, and I'll need fresh linen and hot water." Azeem smoothed the tangled, matted hair off the strange woman's brow. "It will be alright, little one." He sighed softly, moving to gather the small bundle off the floor. Robin stepped in to help in, and together, they maneuvered their burden upstairs. Marion met them at the top of the landing.

"Gracious- what's happened to her?" The fair lady asked tiredly, her eyes wide with alarm.

"Go back to rest, milady. Robin, go with her." Azeem ordered, stalking into his own chambers and sliding his bundle unto the unmade bed. Without needing to ask, someone threw another log on the fire and lit the candlesticks, flooding the room with a hearty orange glow.

"I'd rather you didn't order me about in my own house-" Robin began.

"Enough! There's little that can be done at this point, and I can do it by myself. Christian, you have entertained guests all this past day, and will need to be refreshed so you can continue to entertain them on the sunrise. I will tend to this young one myself, and you will retire. That is all." The moor's eyes begged for confrontation, and Robin decided it was a moot point to argue with the other man. The gentle tugging of his wife on his arm decided the issue then an there.

"You will call if you need any assistance, Azeem?" Marian pressed.

Azeem nodded absently, absorbed in tearing cloth into small strips to bandage the woman's considerable wounds. "Of course, milady. Rest well, and may Allah watch over you." He sighed as the couple left the room, and readied his mind for work.

A servant arrived shortly with hot water, which she set timidly on the drawing table beside the dark man. She scurried from the room when Azeem assured her he was well enough alone, and he set about his work at cleaning the young woman's face from the dried matter that clung to it like a life form in and of itself. He'd never seen one of the fairer sex in such a condition, and it turned his insides around to look at it. Strangely, the woman never moved a muscle as he attended to the worst of her wounds, lying eerily still as a fresh corpse. He shivered, despite the fair temperature in the room, ever conscious of the flooding of the heavens outside the window at his back, and the new cold that was steeping in his bones like harsh eastern tea.

It was going to be a long night.

_xxxx_

Will Scarlet loitered in the corridor for three quarters of an hour before deciding to enter the Muslim man's inner sanctum. He'd been in Azeem's chambers before, briefly, but never when a near corpse was in residence. Azeem looked up briefly as Will came into the room before returning his attention to whatever it was he was doing. He'd cleaned most of the blood away, Will saw, and was now mixing something in a small bowl.

"I thought you could use some company." While there was no audible response, Will knew by the sudden relaxing of the older man's shoulders that his presence was appreciated, and thus seated himself. He watched in silence as the time passed, making note of certain things, and watching the gentle rise and fall of the woman's breast.

"You're a good companion, Will Scarlet. Thank you." Will was startled by the sudden breaking of the ever long silence, but he managed to nod in reply.

"Anytime old man." He smiled sleepily. After a small pause, he gestured to the body occupying his friend's bed. "Is she going to be alright?"

Azeem nodded. "I believe so, though her fate lies with Allah now. I've done all that I can. We'll have to wait until morning to be sure." He frowned.

Will's sleepy grin widened. "At least you can tell Tuck to leave off now." He swept his arms over the bed elaborately. "After all, you've now had a woman in your bed, and it's fairly warm in here now, I dare say."

Azeem managed a smile at the weak joke, though he thought it best not to mention the cold that had taken hold of his soul the moment he'd awoken in fear earlier that evening. "Ah yes. Ever the positive one, aren't you Christian?"

Will laughed softly and greatfully rose from the seat he'd occupied for the last several hours. "I'm off to get whatever rest I can," he announced. "I suggest you do the same."

Azeem nodded, not taking his eyes from the prone form of his new patient. "I will try."

Will seemed content with that answer. "Good night then, my friend."

"Goodnight."

_Xxxx_

To be Continued…


End file.
